Murder Most Foul
by ltjvt1026
Summary: February 28, 1991. From Mike Franks' perspective. Who else were you expecting me to write about? Rated it "T" 'cause I'm gonna probably drop the f-bomb a couple times. R&R, por favor. Chapter 5 is up.
1. Death on the I5

**Disclaimer: {Insert your favorite disclaimer HERE}**

**Author's Note: **I started writing on FFN June of last year. At that time I wrote "Kill 'Em All, Let God Sort 'Em Out". It was a multi-chapter story. I swore I wouldn't do it again. My muse has other ideas. "A Bottle of Wine" doesn't count because it was going to be _one _chapter but _somebody_ wheedled me into writing more. This story is going to be at least three chapters. It's an important event in the lives of the characters. I really hope I can do it justice.

**Spoilers: **Hiatus 1 & 2. The most important character deaths of the series.

_**Ghost: **__…..If thou didst ever thy dear father love-_

_**Hamlet: **__O God!_

_**Ghost: **__Revenge his foul and most unnatural murder_

_**Hamlet: **__Murder!_

_**Ghost: Murder most foul,**__ as in the best it is, But this most foul, strange, and unnatural_

_**Hamlet: **__Haste me to know't, that I, with wings as swift As meditation or the thoughts of love, May _

_sweep to my revenge_

**Act I Scene V, The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark- **William Shakespeare

**NIS safe house apartment, Thursday February 28, 1991 0530hrs**

Special Agent Mike Franks was not a happy camper. He had his reasons. One, he was working a witness protection detail. He hated witpro. As in this case, it meant being stuck in an apartment staring at four walls. Two, to work said detail, he'd been called off his vacation in Mexico. That's right, he'd traded beer, fishing and 'other pursuits' for sitting in this apartment with a sawed off shotgun in his lap. The good news was the day shift should be here momentarily.

Mike and his partner for the evening, Special Agent Brett Place were guarding a Marine dependant who'd witnessed the homicide of a Marine that occurred in Oceanside. Normally not a big deal. The perp in this case was Pedro Hernandez, head of a drug dealing outfit that the Camp Pendleton NIS office was trying to put out of business. That made it a really _big_ deal. So big that the new SAC Harold "Iron Ass" Applegatecanceled everybody's vacations and reeled them all back in.

When Franks rolled into the office yesterday, he volunteered for the overnight shift so he wouldn't have to deal with the protectee. So far that had worked well. When Mike and Brett showed up last night at 2300, the woman and her daughter were already asleep. Today they both would be going to San Diego. Once there, the US Attorney would take the woman's formal statement and the US Marshalls would take over the protection detail.

Mike looked at his watch. Special Agents John Bailey and Kathy Franklin should be arriving any minute. Franks looked towards the couch. Special Agent Place was dozing.

_He looks entirely too comfortable_

Mike took a spare 12 gauge shotgun round from his pocket. He flipped it at Place. The round hit Brett in the forehead, causing him to jump to his feet reaching for his weapon.

Franks grinned.

"Morning, Sleeping Beauty."

"Shit, Mike. You trying to give me a heart attack?"

"Ah hell, a young fella like you should be able to just wake up and not get your panties in a knot."

Place's response was forestalled by a series of knocks on the apartment door. Drawing his weapon, Brett walked to the door and looked through the peephole. He moved to the knob side of the door and looked at Mike.

"It's Bailey and Franklin."

Mike nodded and stood, bringing the shotgun to his waist pointing it at the door. Place reached out and unlocked the dead bolt.

"It's unlocked."

The door swung open and Franklin and Bailey stepped in quickly shutting the door behind them. Franklin's eyes widened when she saw the sawed off pointing at her, waist high. Bailey laughed.

"Still got the scatter gun I see."

Mike laughed too.

"Still the best argument ender I know."

Franklin watched as Mike broke the action and unloaded the shotgun.

"That's not an issue weapon."

"You're absolutely correct Agent Franklin. This little beauty is my personal property."

The shotgun in Mike's hands had started life as a full size fowling piece with twenty eight inch barrels. Now the buttstock was shortened by three inches and the barrels only extended two inches past the end of the foregrip. Franks slid the gun into its case and looked at John Bailey.

"They're still both asleep and the place is tight. What time are they due in Dago?"

"Thirteen thirty. I'll be drivin' the van and Kathy'll be in the chase car."

"Ya know, you're really too short to be doin' this. How much longer John?"

Bailey grinned widely.

"Twenty days and a wake up."

In three weeks John Bailey would retire from NIS and go back to his native New Jersey.

"Well, that should be a good party. We're outta here. C'mon Place."

**I-5 Southbound between Oceanside and Carlsbad 1215hrs**

The first sound in the blacked out bedroom was the shrill sound of a pager going off. The next sound was the bedside phone ringing. Mike Franks fumbled the handset out of its cradle.

"Franks."

"It's Applegate. Are you awake?"

"Yeah Harold, I had to get up to answer the phone. What is it?"

"John Bailey's dead and Franklin's in the hospital. Both our protectee's are dead too."

"WHAT!"

Mike jumped out of bed turning on the light on the nightstand. The clock next to the phone read 1120.

"What the fuck happened Harold?"

There was a sigh on the other end of the line.

"Apparently about half way between the safe house and San Diego somebody sniped John. The van went off the road, flipped a couple of times and wound up back on its wheels. Franklin stopped and as she ran towards the van she caught a round in the thigh. I want you as lead on this. Nothing's been moved yet. You need to get out there ASAP."

Applegate then gave the closest mile marker to Franks.

_John's dead, John's dead, John's dead, Joh…_

"MIKE!"

"Right Harold, I'm on it."

When he left the safe house earlier, Mike took his 'company car' home. This now came in very handy. With the gumball light flashing and siren wailing Mike made it to the crime scene in record time.

Pulling into the crime scene area, Mike saw an NIS sedan on the shoulder with the driver's door open. Further up the road in the verge area between the shoulder and the barrier fence was a red wood sided van. The nose and roof were crumpled and the left rear tire was flat. There were white sheets draped over the windows. Franks got out of his car, pinning his shield to his jacket. When he got to the crime scene tape he gave his name to the agent who was acting as recorder.

"The county ME's over by the van Mike."

"Thanks Tom."

Franks walked up to the ME.

"What do you have Doc?"

Dr. Roger Land sighed

"Right this way Agent Franks."

The two men moved to the van and the ME pulled the sheet off the driver's side. John Bailey was still belted in behind the wheel, half his head shot away. Dr. Land cleared his throat.

"It was a straight on shot. Probably from the overpass down that way."

The ME gestured towards an overpass less than a quarter mile away.

"Entered Agent Bailey's head under his right eye and exited out the back. The slug is buried in the seat back behind him. The van swerved, rolled and came to rest where you see it. The two passengers, Mrs. Shannon Gibbs and her daughter Kelly died of neck injuries and internal bleeding."

Mike opened the driver's door and stepped on the sill so he could look into the rear of the passenger compartment. He jostled Bailey's body.

"'Scuse me John."

The woman and her daughter were also still belted into their seats.

"Anything else for right now Doc?"

"No. I'll have more once I can get them all on the table."

"Thanks Doc. I'll be in touch."

Mike looked around for the senior crime scene tech.

"Yo, Hart. Let's get to collectin'."

"Okay Mike. We're on it."

As Mike walked back towards his car he lit a cigarette.

_What a cluster fuck._

**A/N: **From what I've read and heard the end of the season is going to be Gibbs-centric with Mike Franks making an appearance. Something tells me the events of the end of February, beginning of March 1991 are going to rear their ugly heads. That's one of the reasons I'm doing this. As I said earlier I'm hoping to do justice to this very important event in the lives of our favorite characters. Pop the balloon and let me know what you think so far.


	2. Tracking

**Disclaimer: Can't really refer back to Chapter 1. Sooo, NCIS belongs to **_**them **_**(we all know who **_**they **_**are) not to **_**me **_**(we all know who **_**I **_**am {well, you would if you read my profile}), no profit is being made. I'm just trying to write something other people might like to read.**

**Authors Note: **I'm sure there's someone out there that is going, "Hamlet and NCIS? What's up with _that?" _Well, my youngest son is reading Hamlet for his English class. He was not liking it at all. IMHO Shakespeare is not meant to be read (they are _plays_ after all). Watched or at the very best listened to. So I went to the local library and got the audio version. He likes that a lot more. Anyway, the conversation between the ghost and Hamlet came on. My muse immediately started yammering. That's why we're here.

**Spoilers: **Somebody across the pond got their knickers in a twist about spoilers this week. So if that sort of crap bothers you, don't read my "Background" section below. I mention the name of Shannon's mom from "Mothers Day". Also if you've never seen "Hiatus" this story is one big spoiler. But if you've read this far it's too late anyway.

**Background: **Okay, you can't really call this "technical notes". In my research I found canon kind of confusing and vague (no surprise there, the continuity department on the show being what it is), so I did my best. After the events of 28 February (there was no _29__th_ of February in 1991, see my comment above), Gibbs was notified and went a little bonkers. Ran into a mine field (_I_ think that's the most OOC thing in the whole show), getting blown up and landing in a coma for nineteen days. Comes home on crutches, visits Shannon and Kelly's graves. Contemplates suicide on the beach. Visits Franks and finds out the whereabouts of Pedro Hernandez. Kills same. Joins NIS/NCIS. That's what I'm going to be using as the framework for the rest of the story. If anybody finds out differently or I'm wrong let me know. I'm also going to throw Joann Fielding (Shannon's mom) in. Enough boring stuff. On with the story.

**NIS Field Office, Camp Pendleton MCB, Sunday, March 3, 1991 0500hrs**

"_Twenty days and a wakeup"_

Special Agent Mike Franks' eyes snapped open. His body jerked, almost pitching him out of his office chair. He'd taken a break about midnight, putting his feet up on the desk.

John Bailey's voice sounded like he was right there. He wasn't. John was back in New Jersey. In a flag draped closed casket. Closed because half his head had been shot away. SAC Applegate gave Mike permission to go to the funeral. Franks demurred.

"_I'd rather stay here and find the bastard that killed him Harold. Thanks anyway."_

Most homicide investigators will tell you the first forty eight hours of the investigation were crucial. After forty eight hours, evidence deteriorates, alibis are solidified, and witnesses' recollections can change. Mike and the rest of the office had yanked in every member of Hernandez's group. The door to 'the box' should have been a revolving one the way skels went in and out. Nobody gave anything up. The last anyone would admit to seeing Hernandez was 0730 on Thursday. He was eating 'huevos motulenos' with two of his homies at his favorite diner. The only other thing they were able to gather was Hernandez wanted to make sure the whole murder of the Marine 'went away.' The white van was found late Friday night, burned down to the tires. In the hulk, the twisted remains of a hunting rifle with a scope.

Mike yawned and looked at his watch.

_0500! Holy crap! I've been asleep five hours._

He looked around the office guiltily. No one was there. All the desks were vacant.

'_Iron Ass' musta sent everybody home. Woulda been nice if he'd gotten somebody to wake me._

Mike stood and stretched. His back popped loudly in the quiet office. Since Mike was the lead agent for the Bailey-Gibbs homicides, the SAC gave Mike his own office. Franks' desk was covered with paper. Autopsy reports, lists of evidence gathered, transcripts of interrogations, the SRB(Service Record Book) of Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs, husband of Shannon Gibbs, and the release forms for the bodies of Shannon and Kelly Gibbs.

Franks rubbed his face. He needed a shower, shave, and a fresh shirt and underwear. There was a shirt still in the wrapper in the lower right drawer of his regular desk. His locker contained clean underwear and a change of clothes. Mike went to his regular desk and grabbed the shirt. Five minutes later he was in the shower. As the hot water cascaded over him, pieces of the last forty eight hours ran through his head.

_Mike left the crime scene. He needed to talk to Agent Kathy Franklin. At Oceanside Hospital, he finally tracked her down. She was on a gurney in pre-op with a nurse standing by. Franklin's eyes were closed. Mike 'tinned' the nurse._

"_Is she awake?"_

"_Yes sir. We gave her something to ease the pain. She's scheduled for surgery in about fifteen minutes."_

"_Thanks. Franklin? Agent Franklin!"_

_Kathy Franklin's eyes opened and she got a goofy look on her face._

"_Oooh, it's 'El Viejo'. What's up Mikey?"_

_Under other circumstances Mike would have laughed and played along with the doped up agent. Not today._

"_Damnit Franklin. Focus. What did you see out there on the I-5?"_

_Franklin's face fell._

"_John's dead, isn't he?"_

_For just a second, Mike considered taking the soft approach. But he didn't know how long Franklin would be conscious._

"_Yeah, dead as a doornail. Now what did you see?"_

_Franklin sniffled._

"_Everything was good. No signs of a tail. We were doing the speed limit in the right lane. Then, near Carlsbad, I saw the van swerve towards the shoulder. It tipped and rolled twice. Landed back on its wheels. I thought John had a blowout….."_

_Franklin's eyes fluttered shut. Mike reached out and shook her hard._

"_Not yet Franklin. WAKE THE FUCK UP!"_

_The nurse stepped forward._

"_Sir…."_

"_Back up lady."_

_Franklin's eyes snapped open._

"_Sorry. I pulled up and jumped out. Was halfway to the van when I got shot."_

"_Did you see where it came from?"_

"_Yeah, overpass. White van. Side door was open."_

"_Didja see the shooter?"_

"_No, I think I passed out."_

_Tears started leaking out of Kathy Franklin's eyes._

"_I couldn't do anything. John needed help and I passed out."_

_Mike's face softened. She'd find out soon enough that there would have been nothing she could have done. He put his hand on her forehead, pushing stray hairs out of her face._

"_Ya done good Kathy. You rest now."_

_More tears rolled out of Kathy's eyes._

"_John was gonna live down at the Jersey shore and surf fish every morning. You get the bastard that killed him Mike. You gotta get him."_

_Don't you worry. I'll get him."_

As he turned off the shower, Mike realized that he might not be able to keep that particular promise. Franks dried off and wrapped a towel around his waist. As he shaved the second piece played through his brain.

_Friday afternoon about 1420 Mike was typing up his notes from a just completed interrogation. Special Agent Brett Place stuck his head into Mike's office._

"'_Iron Ass' wants you in his office Mike."_

_Franks looked up clearly annoyed._

"_I just gave that s.o.b a progress report fifteen minutes ago."_

_The younger agent pulled a face._

"_Hey, don't shoot the messenger. That's not it. He wants you to bring the release forms for Mrs. Gibbs and her daughter."_

"_Okay Brett. Thanks."_

_Mike gathered up the required paperwork and made his way to the SAC's office. Franks figured the Corps expedited Gunny Gibbs' return from the Gulf. The poor bastard._

_Mike reached the office, knocked, and entered. Upon entering, instead of a Marine in his 'greens' there was a blond woman dressed in black. Applegate looked up._

"_Agent Mike Franks, this is Mrs. Joanne Fielding, mother of Shannon Gibbs."_

_Mike moved up to the woman extending his hand._

"_Ma'am, you have my heartfelt condolences on your loss."_

"_Save them. Have you found the scum responsible?"_

"_No, but I'm workin' on it."_

_Applegate spoke up._

"_As I told you Mrs. Fielding, not only NIS, but Oceanside PD and the San Diego County Sheriff's Office are working to bring the persons responsible to justice."_

"_Fine. In any case can I have the releases for my daughter and granddaughter's bodies?"_

_Applegate looked at Franks. Mike handed over the folder containing the paperwork. The SAC stood, took the folder and spread the forms in from of Joanne Fielding._

"_Just sign in the highlighted areas please."_

_As the woman was signing the forms, Mike looked at Applegate and raised an eyebrow. The SAC spoke._

"_Sorry Franks, I haven't had a chance to update you. Apparently after receiving word about his wife and daughter, Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs was wounded and is now in a coma. The details are a little vague since the unit he's in is classified."_

_Mrs. Fielding finished signing the forms. The SAC gave her the copies she would need to claim her loved ones._

"_Ma'am, I'll have an agent accompany you to the county morgue."_

"_Thank you Agent Applegate. I'm sure that will help tremendously. Good day Agent Franks."_

_Mrs. Fielding rose and the SAC escorted her out. Mike went back to work._

Mike finished shaving, dressed and left the locker room. Harold Applegate was sitting at the desk closest to the locker room. When the SAC saw the look on Mike's face he grinned.

"Bet you feel and smell better than you did earlier."

Mike grinned back.

"Yeah, I do. Where is everybody?"

"I booted 'em outta here about 0100. Told 'em to come back at noon."

"Why?"

"'Cause like you they were dead on their feet. This way they'll get some sleep and food. Speaking of which, I'm buying you breakfast. Come on."

Mike hesitated.

"C'mon Mike. You've been livin' on nothin' but coffee and cigarettes since Thursday. Let's go."

The men walked out to Applegate's car. During the ride to the diner they talked about Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs. The SAC handed Mike a teletype printout.

"According to Central Command, Gibbs is still in a coma. If and when he comes out of it, they're going to route him home through Germany so he can visit his family's graves in DC."

Mike raised an eyebrow.

"Yeah Mike I was surprised too. Apparently they lived in the area when the Gunny was TAD at Quantico. She wanted to be buried there."

Once at the diner Mike demolished a breakfast fit for a lumberjack. On the way back to Pendleton, the two men discussed the probability of catching Pedro Hernandez.

"What do you hear Harold?"

"Between DEA, Customs, the Border Patrol, and State not much. Best guess is he's trying to buy somebody in the Mexican government before he jumps. If we don't get him before that, we're gonna be SOL."

Applegate pulled into the NIS lot. Franks got out and walked around to the driver's side. It was about 0620.

The SAC looked up at Franks.

"Go home Mike. Come back at noon."

"Right Harold."

Mike spun on his heel and walked into the field office.

Harold 'Iron Ass' Applegate sighed. He then parked his car and followed his senior agent into the building.

**A/N: **Okay. One chapter left. Or maybe two. I'm not sure. The outline looks like it's going to be three, but I can't tell. Anyhoo, how 'bout laying out some reviews?


	3. Escape

**Disclaimer: See Chapter Two (there's a switch!)**

**Authors Note: **After some due deliberation, I think we're going to be going on to four chapters. An anonymous reviewer brought up a valid point that I'm going to address. He/she said that no new info was revealed to move the story along. Not strictly true. Agent Franklin Id'd the vehicle where the shots came from. This vehicle was later recovered. Below, you'll see that the van and its recovery are going to play a part in our little drama. It's definitely going to "move the story along".

**Spoilers: **See Chapter Two.

"**The box", NIS Field Office, Camp Pendleton MCB, Wednesday, March 6, 1991 0145hrs**

Most of the time, police work is accomplished not by great investigative skill. It gets done because people get pissed off at other people and snitch 'em off. Such was the case with Nestor Sanchez. Nestor was one of the two 'homies' spotted with Pedro Hernandez at the diner on Thursday morning. The other was Juan Calderon. Mr. Calderon and Mr. Hernandez were still among the missing. Not so Mr. Sanchez. He was currently sitting on a folding chair glaring at Special Agent Mike Franks. Also in the room were Special Agent Brett Place and Assistant US Attorney Brian Davies.

All four men were in the interrogation room (aka "the box") of the NIS Field Office. "The box" was formerly a storage room. There was enough room for a table and two folding chairs. Anybody else would have to stand. Which is what Davies and Place were doing. Unlike the interrogation rooms at the Provost Marshalls Office, there was no one way mirror for observers to stand behind. Also there was no sound or video. On the table between Franks and Nestor was a cassette player/recorder with a mike on a little stand. Mike was sitting, arms folded watching Sanchez glare at him. They'd been in this position since about 0030.

At about 2200 on Tuesday evening, Mike Franks and Brett Place were eating take out fried chicken in Mike's office. Since the shootings on Thursday, Place had gravitated to Franks. Mike really didn't have a partner so he let Brett 'tag along' when he went out. The phone on Mike's desk rang. It was the madam of a cat house on the edge of the Oceanside _barrio_. Mike helped her out once, smoothing over a beef with the Oceanside PD Vice Unit. The madam told Mike that Nestor was availing himself of the hospitality of the house. She knew Mike would like to "talk" to Nestor. Would he be interested in having that chat now? Franks indicated he would most definitely wish to speak with Mr. Sanchez. Not one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Mike did want to know what motivated the madam to this act of civic mindedness. Apparently "that _pendejo_ Nestor" had messed up one of the madam's prime girls a couple of weeks back. This caused an unexpected drop in profits for the month, making for one pissed off madam. She was now returning the favor, sort of speak. Mike thanked her after assuring her he'd be right down.

Naturally SAC Applegate wanted to mount the equivalent of the Normandy invasion to pick up Nestor. Mike had disagreed, arguing that too much fuss might tip Nestor off. He and Place would go get Nestor. Applegate could call down to Dago to get an AUSA up to sit in on the questioning. That's what happened. Mike and Brett went to the house. The madam was waiting downstairs with Nestor's girl. Apparently life on the run had made Nestor horny. He'd tired himself out and according to the girl was sleeping like a baby. At least until Mike screwed the barrel of his Python into Nestor's ear, waking him. The ride from the house back to NIS was mostly silent. From the agents standpoint anyway. Nestor was making his displeasure known rather loudly. In both English and Spanish.

He'd stood mute however since being brought into "the box". Franks was waiting for some indication that he could start. Finally Sanchez stopped glaring and shifted in his seat. Mike took this as his cue. He unfolded his arms and placed his hands flat on the table on either side of a manila folder.

"Okay Nestor. We both know why you're here. Before I turn on the tape and make this official, we're gonna have a little chat. Well, actually I'm going to talk; you're just going to listen, since you haven't been given your rights yet."

Nestor grinned and said in Spanish, _"That's right you fuckfaced Fed. You ain't got a thing you can put on me. I'm gonna sit right here and laugh at you. Shit, you probably don't even know what I'm sayin'."_

Not changing expression, Mike said in Spanish, _"Well Nestor I __**do**__ know what you just said. I also know that I've got enough on ya to put ya in the ground. Whatta ya think of that."_

If the Virgin Mary herself had showed up in "the box", Nestor wouldn't have been more surprised. Mike switched back to English.

"Let's cut the shit shall we. Here it is Nestor. We found the van."

Sanchez's eyes widened slightly. Mike picked it up.

_Gotcha._

"And in the van we found a fingerprint. Your fingerprint. You didn't think that torching it would remove all the evidence did ya?"

This was a bald faced lie. There wasn't anything in the van that was useable.

"Now we know that you, Calderon, and Hernandez were together on the 28th at seven thirty. I also think as we keep digging, we'll come up with somebody who saw the three of you get in that van."

Sanchez's nostrils twitched.

_Oh yeah._

"The only bad thing from your standpoint is Calderon and Hernandez are still in the wind. You're right here though. With your ass hanging out.

Nestor smirked.

"You still got jack. If you had anything, I'd be charged."

Mike sighed.

"Nestor, Nestor. Don't you see? You're here. I've got _your_ fingerprint in the vehicle where the shots came from. And I have this."

Mike removed three close up autopsy photos from the folder and spread them out, tapping each one in turn.

"A dead Federal agent with half his head shot away. A hero Marine's dead wife, and to top it off his dead eight year old daughter."

Some color drained from Nestor's face.

_Time to set the hook._

"Now, any prosecutor worth his wingtips could indict a ham sandwich. What do ya think is gonna happen when Mr. Davies here steps in front of a Federal grand jury with these pictures and your fingerprint from that van? Then, even though the evidence is circumstantial, what do you think a jury is going to say after hearing about a young mother and her eight year old being snuffed out?"

Nestor's eyes started sliding around the room.

_Now to reel him in._

"To top it off, by now Hernandez knows you got picked up. What do you think he's thinkin'? I'll tell ya. He's goin' 'That cabron Nestor is rollin' over.' You go to the county or the Metropolitan Correctional Center in Dago, how long do ya think you'll last? Pedro snuffed an _eight year old_. He'll step on you like a cockroach."

Nestor looked up at the ceiling.

"What do I get?"

Pushing off the wall in his corner, Davies spoke.

"You show me yours and I'll show you mine Mr. Sanchez."

Nestor sighed.

"Let's go on the tape."

Twenty five minutes later they had it all. Hernandez was behind the rifle. Sanchez and Calderon was the backup. A file clerk with access to the safe house file had tipped Hernandez to the safe house. Using static surveillance the gang knew when the NIS agents hit the I-5. The rest was history. Davies motioned to the door with his head. Mike nodded.

"Brett, keep Nestor entertained."

Place smiled.

"Sure Mike."

Davies and Franks walked into the corridor.

"Good job Mike. No offense, but I'm calling the office to have a unit of Marshalls come down and take Nestor to San Diego."

"I can see your point Brain. Harold won't have a problem with it. Matter of fact, why don't you go give him a heads up and we'll get Nestor ready to go."

**NIS Field Office Camp Pendleton MCB, Thursday, March 14, 1991 1030hrs**

Agents Franks and Place were doing paperwork in Mike's office. In the eight days since Nestor Sanchez rolled on the Hernandez crew, several developments took place. Raids were conducted on any known associates of the group. A Federal murder indictment was handed down against Pedro Hernandez. Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs was transferred from the hospital in Saudi Arabia to the Landstuhl Army Regional Medical Center in Germany.

Intelligence gathered in the raids indicated that any day Pedro Hernandez would jump the border. He had a hacienda in central Mexico to run to.

The prognosis on Gunny Gibbs was mixed. One set of neurosurgeons said he'd come out of it. Another said he would not. Mike was betting he would. Special Agent Tom Welsh stuck his head in the door.

"Hey guys, 'Iron Ass' wants you in his office pronto."

Mike looked up from his paperwork.

"Thanks Tom. Let's go, Junior."

Unintentionally Franks and Place developed a partnership. Thrown together by the case, Franks found a steady, bright guy to back him. Place learned more police work in two weeks than he'd learned in two years. As they entered the SAC's office Mike saw a uniformed Border Patrol Inspector sitting next to Applegate's desk.

"Agents Franks and Place, this is Inspector Webster. He's got some news for us."

Mike kept his face blank.

_I'll bet it's all bad too._

The inspector stood holding a VHS tape.

"This is from a camera at the Tijuana crossing. Taken this morning at 0345. Your forensic people enhanced it for us."

Webster shoved the tape into a VCR that Applegate had in the corner of his office. The men gathered around the TV.

"This particular camera is focused on the Mexican side."

As Webster spoke, a white sedan came into the frame from the US side. The rear plate was red white and blue. Clearly a State Dept. issued diplomatic plate.

Mike groaned.

"SHIT"

Webster smiled sympathetically.

"Uh, huh"

The vehicle glided up to the booth at the Mexican checkpoint. Papers were exchanged. The car then moved off, but stopped still in camera range. The left rear door opened and Pedro Hernandez stepped out. He faced back towards the US side. Clearly he knew there was a camera there. Hernandez grinned widely and grabbed his crotch. Mike's face turned to stone.

"If it's the last thing I ever do, I'm gonna kill that son of a bitch."

**NIS Field Office, Camp Pendleton MCB, Wednesday, March 20, 1991 1106hrs**

Mike Franks was still feeling the effects of last night. For the last six days, he'd gone out drinking to the Code Four Lounge. Elena was pissed at him. Since the end of February, he'd seen her maybe three times. The SAC finally called him into his office and told him to 'get his head out of his ass'.

So now Mike was doing exactly that. With a last signature the file on the Bailey-Gibbs homicides went from 'active' to 'pending'. Franks would be going back to his regular desk and caseload. The job was over. Walk away.

Somebody cleared their throat. Mike looked up. Applegate.

"Looks like you get to keep this office a little while longer Franks. Gunny Gibbs woke up this morning. He'll be back here in about a week."

Mike grimaced.

"Great. I get to tell him that I couldn't catch the scumbag who killed his wife and daughter. Can't wait.

**A/N:** The whole 'Gibbs in a coma for 19 days' thing is a royal pain. But now we're gonna get to the juicy parts. I know I said I'd be able to do this in three chapters. Now it looks like definitely four or maybe five (stop saying 'I told ya so' M E). Puncture the balloon and let me know how I'm doing.


	4. Avenged

**Disclaimer: Yup, it's not mine. Belongs to DPB.**

**Authors Note: **Okaaaay, chapter four. This baby has taken on a life of its own. As I'm typing this, I'm still hand writing the chapter (don't ask). I hope to wrap it up right here. No promises. I haven't been watching the show 'cause I know they're goin' over the ground. There are enough continuity issues, I don't need any more. So if things here aren't matching up with new info, I can only say, "Sorry about that, Chief". Anyway enjoy, and don't forget to leave a review at the end. Hey, I figure if I mention it now while I have your undivided attention you'll do it.

**Background/Spoilers:** Just in case somebody out there is keeping track (and there's bound to be somebody), Gibbs went into his coma on 2/28. He was in it for 19 days. This brings us to 3/19-3/20. He was on crutches. I've given him nine days to visit DC get off his crutches and get out to the West Coast. Even to me it sounds a little far-fetched. But hey, after all, this _is _Gibbs we're talking about. Anyway, I've lengthened out the timeline a little to try and keep some semblance of reality.

"_Revenge_ _is an act of passion; vengeance of justice. Injuries are revenged; crimes are avenged"-_** Samuel Johnson (1709-1784)**

**Gate 12 Terminal 1 San Diego International Airport, Friday March 29, 1991 1025hrs**

NIS Special Agents Mike Franks and Brett Place were doing something cops do a lot. They were killing time. Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs was flying United Airlines to San Diego. They were here to meet him. One problem. Due to weather on the East Coast, the flight was delayed. So Mike and Brett were people watching and playing 'ghost' to kill time. 'Ghost' was a word game popular with cops on stakeouts and situations like this. It didn't require anything but a vocabulary. No pens, pencils or score sheets. The game was simple. Players take turns adding a letter to a growing word fragment. If you're the one who completes the word you lose. Players can challenge each other if they think that the fragment is not a real word. But if it turns out it is a word you lose the round. If you lose, you get a letter, like the game of 'horse' in basketball. Get 'ghost' and you lose the game.

Brett Place was on the losing end of the last three games.

"Okay, Mike. I quit. I admit it. You have a better vocabulary than me. Satisfied?"

"Now, now Junior. No reason to get all het up. Since you're buyin', I'll take another coffee."

As always, it was loser buys. Strolling to the coffee kiosk two gates down, Place was glad they hadn't been playing at the Code Four. Returning with Mike's coffee and his own can of Coke, Brett checked the 'Arrivals' monitor.

"Hey Mike, looks like the Gunny's flight will be here in about a half hour."

Taking the container of coffee from the younger man, Franks looked up at the monitor.

"_Fan_tastic. Then I get to explain to the man how I let that _maricon _Hernandez get away after he killed his wife and only child."

Place sighed.

"C'mon Mike, quit it. We gave it our best shot an' he got away."

"Yeah, yeah. Don't make it any easier to swallow."

Both agents sat and ten minutes of silence ensued. Finally Brett spoke up.

"What do you think of the 'Agent Afloat' program?"

Mike turned his head away from Place so his grin would be hidden.

"It's a great opportunity to show your stuff. Do a good job out there and your career is pretty much fast tracked."

"Applegate asked me if I'd ever consider it. Apparently the guy on the Abraham Lincoln is due to rotate off. 'Iron Ass' said if I applied, he'd give me a favorable endorsement."

Mike turned back to the younger agent. They'd been working together since the Bailey-Gibbs case started. Mike was impressed. Place was one of the new generation of NIS agents, college educated, but with no military or law enforcement experience before coming to the agency. However, the kid had good instincts. He also showed a flair for 'brick work', the daily routine of working a case. So Mike talked to the SAC about moving Place. A cruise as 'Agent Afloat' would give the lad a boost up the career ladder.

"Well Junior, if 'Iron Ass' said that, I'd apply if I was you. He don't put himself out for too many people."

Starting to smell a rat, Place looked at Mike hard.

"You didn't talk to him about me, did you?"

"Who, me?"

"Yeah you Franks. I can fork my own broncs, thank you very much."

"Sure you can, Brett."

"Were you ever an 'Agent Afloat'?"

Mike took on a mock horrified look.

"Heavens no. I'm allergic to swabbies."

Place laughed but then turned serious.

"Do you think I could hack a cruise afloat?"

"You bet Junior. You'd better apply or I'll kick your ass."

As they talked, the plane they'd been awaiting taxied up to the gate. Both agents rose. The gate crew opened the door to the jetway. Jet engine noise flowed out of the doorway. After about ten minutes passengers started to trickle out. A Marine with Gunnery Sergeant's chevrons limped through the door and into the terminal. Franks and Place moved up to him. Franks spoke.

"Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs?"

Piercing blue eyes met Mike's.

"Yes."

"Agents Franks and Place, NIS. We were the agents assigned to investigate the murder of your wife and child. You have our sincerest condolences on you loss. We wanted to meet you and update you on the investigation. Also we thought you might need a ride to Pendleton."

Gibbs looked off for a second and then looked back at Mike.

"I understand the guy responsible escaped to Mexico."

Place shifted, but Franks looked directly into Gibbs' eyes.

"Yes he did. We're doing everything we can to find him and bring him back."

"I'm sure you are Agent Franks. I appreciate you coming to meet me. I have orders to Naval Medical Center San Diego to complete my rehab. I'm not going to Pendleton."

"Well in that case, Gunny let us give you a ride there."

While talking they'd moved towards the baggage claim area. Once they collected Gibbs' seabag, the group moved to the NIS sedan for the ride to NMCSD. On the way the agents told Gibbs as much as they could. At the medical center, Mike gave Gibbs his card and told him to call when he got back to Pendleton.

After Gibbs disappeared into the building, Place turned to Mike.

"He didn't react like I thought he would. No recriminations, no 'how could you let this happen'. Just…I don't know."

"Well you know what they say Junior. 'Still waters run deep'. I think the Gunny has a lot going on right now. Once he gets it all sorted out, maybe he'll show us more."

**NIS Field Office, Camp Pendleton MCB, Tuesday April 16, 1991 1810hrs**

It was the end of a very long day for Special Agent Mike Franks. This morning he'd gotten the call he'd been dreading since the end of March. Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs called looking for his full briefing on the killing of his family. Mike went to Gibbs' quarters in the NCO section of base housing to pick him up. Luckily Brett Place was off for a dentist's appointment. He knew the kid was uncomfortable around Gibbs, so the day would be a little easier. Once back at the office Mike gave Gibbs the full story, minus anything that could compromise a prosecution if one should occur. After telling the Gunny about the van crash, Gibbs wanted to see it. Mike drove them to the impound yard. The Marine just stood and stared at the wreck for about ten minutes.

"What was the name of the agent who was driving?"

"John Bailey. He was twenty one days from retirement."

Gibbs picked up on the pain in Franks' voice.

"Your partner?"

"Nah. Just a good friend. Aways back he sided me during my divorce."

"So this is personal for you too?"

"Oh yeah."

After the impound yard, they'd returned to the office. Franks pulled a small backpack from the bottom drawer of his filing cabinet.

"We turned over all personal effects to your mother-in-law. The backpack was overlooked. It was stuck under the rear seat. Looks like it belonged to your daughter."

"It's Kelly's. Can I have it?"

"You bet."

Mike filled out the paperwork; Gibbs signed and picked up the bag turning it over in his hands.

"Give it to me straight Agent Franks. Are you going to be able to get Hernandez back?"

"I'm not gonna blow smoke up your ass Gunny. I honestly don't know. He was able to buy himself a bunch of Mexican politicos. From what I've heard, the _federales_ aren't pushing too hard."

"Thanks for being straight with me. Can you give me a ride back to my house?"

"Sure Gibbs."

So now Mike was putting the last touches on the job. Gibbs got his brief. 'Iron Ass' was making noises about getting Franks back to his regular duties.

_Tomorrow is soon enough to finish. Think I'll head down to the Code Four for a cold one. Or two._

Mike's phone buzzed. Interior line.

"Franks."

"Mike, its Lt. Earle."

"Hey, Duane. How's the MP biz?"

"Fine. Listen, do you know a Gunny named Gibbs?"

"Yeah, I dropped him at his house 'bout two-three hours ago."

"That's what one of my sergeants said. He's Gibbs' neighbor."

"What's up Duane?"

"Well, my guy saw Gibbs come out of his house. He went out to say 'hi'. They were talking and Gibbs said he was going to the beach to talk to his girls. He thinks Gibbs had a pistol under his shirt."

Bells started ringing in Mike's head.

"You know what beach, Duane?"

"Yes."

Earle gave Mike directions.

"You want me to send a unit to back you up Mike?"

"No. I've got this. Thanks Duane."

Mike didn't break too many traffic laws getting to the beach. He pulled into the parking lot next to what he recognized as Gibbs' pickup. Mike moved quickly to the beach, scanning the area. There were several large pieces of driftwood off to his right. Franks thought he saw the top of a head. As he moved closer, he saw Gibbs sitting with his back to a piece of driftwood. There was a Beretta 92F in his lap.

_Take this really easy Mikey._

Franks eased his cigarettes out of his pocket. Gibbs didn't react until Mike snapped open his Zippo to light the coffin nail. Gibbs looked up automatically grabbing the pistol.

"What are you doing here Agent Franks?'

"Just passing by and saw your truck. Figured I'd stop and say howdy."

Gibbs chuckled.

"Bullshit. My neighbor Rob called his boss, who called you."

_Very good, Gunny._

"Okay, ya got me. What's goin' on Gibbs?"

"Let's see. My wife and baby girl are dead. The guy that killed 'em is probably not going to be brought to justice for it. I couldn't protect my own family. And to top it all off, I was notified today that due to my coma my eyesight was effected. I can't be a sniper anymore."

Mike grimaced.

"So you came out here to do what? Pull the chicken switch?"

"What?"

"You gonna put that Beretta in your mouth and pull the trigger Gunny?"

"Something like that."

"That's really great. Make it a clean sweep for that bastard Hernandez. First your wife and daughter, then you. You know what he's going to do when he reads that in the paper? _He's gonna laugh his ass off!"_

"Just a damn…"

No, Gunny. You listen. Do you think your wife and little girl would want you to do this? I don't think so. So ya can't be a sniper anymore. Find something else to do. If you'd have been here, you'd have been in the van too. But you weren't. God help ya, you're gonna have to live with that. But that's the key. _Live_. Killin' yourself is stupid..."

_I almost said 'kill him'. Where'd that come from?_

"Gimme the pistol Gunny. Then we'll go get a couple of drinks and you can come to my office tomorrow and pick it up."

Mike could see Gibbs mulling over his options. Franks waited his face impassive. Gibbs raised the hand holding the pistol. Mike tensed. Gibbs thumbed the mag release, dropping the clip into his free hand. He handed the clip to Mike. He then worked the slide, catching the chambered round as it flipped out of the ejection port. Gibbs locked back the slide, handing the cleared weapon to Franks.

"Let's go get that drink."

**A/N: **I really meant to finish this here and now. The Chief was right. It's going to be five (shut up M E). Enjoy your weekend.


	5. Havoc

**Disclaimer: No, I'm not gonna. You can't make me either. 'Sides we all know the drill, don't we?**

**Authors Note: **Payoff time. All the major characters are on stage. I have to say one thing though. If you've tuned in hoping to see Gibbs smoke Pedro Hernandez, you're SOL. This story is from Mike's perspective. Gibbs' killing of Hernandez is a story for another time. But have no fear; it's in my idea book right behind this story.

**Spoilers: **See the entries for previous chapters.

**Acknowledgements: **I didn't undertake this story lightly. If I didn't have such a _great_ core readership, I would have never done it. So if you're one of those people who loved this story you can thank **M E Wofford, alix33, BAMACRUSH, USAFChief, elflordsmistress and finlaure.** They're the best. I'd also like to thank **ThisLife103.7, cheether, SherryGabs, petuniatc, GlitterInTheAir, xxxAprilxxx, scifibkwrm and honeydust9251** for stepping up with some very nice reviews. It's always great to get a fresh perspective. There was also one nice review from an anonymous reader. Thanks very much guys.

"_Cry 'Havoc', and let slip the dogs of war; - _**Julius Caesar (1601), **William Shakespeare

**NIS Field Office, Camp Pendleton MCB, Wednesday April 17, 1991 0900hrs**

Last night had been a bitch. Gunny Gibbs decided to off himself. Special Agent Mike Franks found out about it in time to talk the Marine out of it. The two men went back to Gibbs' home. Mike then proceeded to get Leroy Jethro Gibbs roaring drunk. Except there was no roaring. Just a morose silence. The Gunny didn't even notice Mike wasn't drinking. About 0200 Gibbs finally passed out. Franks carried the Marine to his bedroom and dumped him in his rack. Before leaving Mike left Gibbs a note reminding him where his 92F was. Mike went back to his apartment to find a note of his own. It was from Elena reminding him they were supposed to have gone to dinner Tuesday night.

So now Franks was sitting at his desk, cigarette lit coffee close at hand. Agent Brett Place walked in with a chipper look on his face.

"Good morning Mike."

"How do you know what kinda goddamn day it is?"

"My, my. Somebody got up on the wrong side of the bed this morning."

Mike noticed the inter-office envelope in Place's hand.

"What'cha got there, Junior?"

"Dunno. 'Iron Ass' just gave it to me. Told me to give it to you."

Mike took the proffered envelope. Undoing the red string holding it closed, Franks pulled out a multi-paged memo.

"Intel report from the DEA on Hernandez. _Christ,_ its ten days old already."

Mike flipped to the end of the report and checked the distribution list. NIS was second from the bottom.

"I really hate those guys."

Place shook his head and went to his desk. Franks flipped back to the start of the report and started reading.

Pedro Hernandez apparently managed to piss off his employer, the Reynosa cartel. He'd gotten the boot from the _hacienda_ in central Mexico. Now he was staying in a place that he bought outside of Buena Vista in northern Sonora. It seems the cartel was not happy that two 'civilians' had been offed. Especially one that was an eight year old girl.

A_www, poor Pedro._

So now Hernandez was banished to northern Sonora while the cartel decided what to do with him. Mike's phone rang.

"Agent Franks."

"_It's Gibbs."_

"What can I do for you Gunny?"

"_When can I come and pick up my Beretta?"_

"Whenever. I'm in the office all day."

"_How about 1000?"_

"Sure Gibbs. I'll be here."

"_See you then Agent Franks."_

After hanging up, Mike lit another cigarette off the butt of the first. He pulled a road atlas out of his desk. After studying the atlas for a few minutes, Mike leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes.

"_Twenty days and a wake up."_

"_John was gonna live down at the Jersey shore and surf fish every morning. You get the bastard that killed him Mike. You gotta get him."_

"_Don't you worry. I'll get him." _

"Hey Mike, you okay?"

Mike's eyes snapped open.

"Yeah, Junior, I'm fine. Say, could you check and see if I left my pager in the car?"

"Sure Mike."

Place got up and left the office. Mike checked his watch. He picked up the phone and dialed an extension.

"_Forensics, Coopersmith."_

"Hey Coop. It's Franks."

"_What's up Bossman?"_

"Do I have anything over there?"

"_Just some follow up reports for a case from January."_

"Great. About 0945 I'm sendin' Place over to pick 'em up. I need you to keep him there for a while."

"_How long?"_

"Let's say 'bout forty five minutes."

"_I don't suppose you'd care to enlighten me?"_

"No I would not."

"_Okaay then."  
_Mike's voice softened.

"Thanks Bailey. I owe ya one."

"_I'll be collectin' too."_

Mike laughed.

"I wouldn't have it any other way. See ya Coop."

A couple of minutes later Brett Place entered the office.

"Not in the car Mike."

"Thanks Brett. I found it. It fell into my bottom drawer. Listen, about nine forty five I need you to go over to Forensics to pick up a couple of files for me. I'd go myself, but I gotta wait for Gibbs."

Place raised an eyebrow.

"He's coming to pick up his Beretta."

Brett looked confused.

"His Beretta?"

Mike filled Place in on yesterday's events.

"You sure it's a good idea to give it back to him Mike?"

"Sure, we talked and he's okay now."

"If you say so Mike."

Nine forty five rolled around and Place left for Forensics. Mike smoked some more and contemplated what he was about to do. He arranged the Hernandez file on his desk with the intel report on top.

"Agent Franks?"

Gibbs stood in the doorway wearing jeans and a t-shirt. Only his slightly bloodshot eyes gave away last night's events.

"Come on in, Gunny."

Gibbs moved into the office, sitting in Mike's 'visitor' chair.

"How's your head?"

Gibbs grinned crookedly

"It's been worse."

They made small talk for a few minutes. Gibbs' eyes would flick down to the file on the desk. Mike opened the bottom drawer of his desk and pulled out the Beretta, clip and loose round.

"Here ya go Gunny."

"Thanks Agent Franks. You don't have to worry. I won't pull anything like that again."

"Glad to hear that. Listen, I'll be right back. I gotta take a leak."

Mike walked to the men's room. He splashed some water on his face and then lit a cigarette, looking at himself in the mirror.

"_Ya know you're really too short to be doin' this. How much longer John?"_

Mike stubbed out his smoke and walked back to the office. Gibbs was sitting in the same place as when Mike left. Upon seeing Mike, Gibbs stood.

"Gotta get going Agent Franks. Thanks again."

"No problem Gibbs. Take care of yourself."

Mike didn't look down at his desk until Gibbs was out of sight. The file was slightly off center as were the pages in it. Mike sighed and looked at the ceiling, murmuring.

"Cry 'Havoc' and let slip the dogs of war."

**Pablo's Restaurant, Oceanside, CA Wednesday June 12, 1991 1310hrs**

Pablo's was not a touristy place. It was deep enough in the _barrio_ that no tourist in his or her right mind would go there. But, the food was great.

Mike Franks and Brett Place were having lunch. Place was eating _arroz con pollo_. Mike was having _mole poblano _chicken. They were in the rear of the restaurant, sitting side by side with their backs to a wall. Mike saw the two men enter first. Brett saw Mike look up, so he did too.

"Know 'em Mike?"

"Uh huh. The young guy in the expensive suit is Efrain Reynosa. The older dude is Quinto Rios, bodyguard of Stefano Reynosa."

Place looked surprised.

"Reynosa, as in the 'Reynosa cartel'?"

"One and the same, Junior."

The two men reached the table. The younger spoke.

"Good afternoon. Agent Franks?"

Mike nodded.

"That would be me."

"I am…"

"…Efrain Reynosa."

"Just so Agent Franks. My father would like to speak to you."

"Well, I'm here."

"If it's convenient, he'd like you to come to him. As a gesture of good faith, I will stay here with Agent Place."

Mike looked at Reynosa for a minute or two. He rose. Brett raised an eyebrow. Mike waved a hand at the younger Reynosa.

"No worries Brett. If I don't walk back through that door in half an hour, shoot him."

Place remembered John Bailey's autopsy photo. His face hardened.

"Roger that."

Mike smiled and turned to Rios.

"Lead on Quinto."

Outside a copper colored Chevy Suburban with blacked out windows was idling at the curb. Quinto opened the rear door, but put a hand on Mike's chest to keep him from climbing in.

"Your _pistola."_

A voice came from inside the SUV.

"It's all right Quinto. Agent Franks can keep his pistol."

Stefano Reynosa sat on the driver's side of the rear seat with a faint smile on his face.

_He looks a little like that actor from the '40's, Ronald Colman._

Quinto closed the door and climbed in next to the driver. Reynosa looked at Mike.

"How long do we have to transact our business?"

Mike looked at his watch.

"Twenty eight minutes."

Reynosa caught the driver's eye in the rearview mirror.

"Vamos."

Reynosa looked back to Mike.

"Agent Franks, the reason I've interrupted your lunch is that I'd like you to deliver a message."

"A message to whom?"

"Gunnery Sergeant Leroy Jethro Gibbs."

"Gibbs? Why Gibbs?"

"Well it appears that _someone_ killed Pedro Hernandez last week. The deed was done by what my security people assure me was an accomplished rifle shot."

Mike felt his heart thudding heavily in his chest.

"I do believe that Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs fits the bill does he not?"

"If he was so inclined, I suppose he would."

Reynosa chuckled.

"Since Hernandez killed his wife and daughter, I'd say he'd be inclined. Be that as it may, we consider the matter closed. The killing of his family would never have been allowed if that cretin Hernandez had consulted with us first. He acted strictly on his own. Therefore what happened to him is no concern of ours. There will be no retaliation. That is the message I wish you to carry to Gibbs."

"If I agree to carry this message, I 'm tacitly agreeing that I think he killed Hernandez. I don't think he did. However, I'll give him the message anyway."

"Thank you. I also understand _you_ had an interest in seeing Hernandez dead.

"Well, I won't be shedding any tears for him, that's for sure. He killed a friend of mine."

"Ah yes. Agent Bailey, is it? I think we can agree that debt is paid also. A 'twofer' I believe you Americans call it."

Mike chuckled darkly.

"All right. I'll tell Gibbs he doesn't have to look over his shoulder for the rest of his life. I'm sure he'll appreciate that. You on the other hand Senor Reynosa, I'd keep looking. I just may decide to make you my life's work."

Now it was Reynosa's turn to chuckle.

"Pursuing that course could lead to a short life, Agent Franks."

The SUV stopped and Rios got out. The rear door opened.

"Vaya con Dios, Agent Franks."

Mike climbed out of the truck and entered Pablo's with Rios right behind. Brett Place looking relieved greeted the older agent.

"Five minutes to spare Mike."

Efrain Reynosa got up and left the restaurant without a word, Rios trailing behind.

"There was never a doubt, Junior."

**NAS North Island, quay wall, Thursday July 18, 1991 0600hrs**

Special Agents Mike Franks and Brett Place were leaning against the trunk of Mike's car. Mike was sipping from a container of coffee. In front of them the bulk of the USS Abraham Lincoln loomed. The official leave taking wouldn't be for hours. By that time Franks would be back at Pendleton. Place looked up at the carrier.

"Man, I'm sure a long way from Kaycee, Wyoming."

Mike turned his head slowly.

"You're from Wyoming?"

"Yes sir. Grew up on a ranch. Had a horse. The whole nine yards."

"I never would have guessed."

"Well, I never really thought wearing a cowboy hat and string tie would be a good move here in SoCal."

Mike laughed.

"Good point. So how'd a Wyoming ranch kid wind up here?"

"I wanted to see the ocean. So when it came time for college, I went to UCLA. After that I knocked around a little until I joined the agency."

"Well Junior, you're gonna get to see a_ lot _of ocean now. As a matter of fact, I predict you're gonna become heartily sick of it."

"You're probably right. But I think it'll be worth it."

Place straightened up turning to Franks.

"Thanks for everything Mike. You've taught me a lot and I really appreciate it."

"No problem Brett."

"I've got one question. You don't have to answer if you don't want to."

"Go ahead an' shoot."

"The day you sent me to Forensics, to get rid of me. You told Gibbs where Hernandez was didn't you?"

Mike looked the younger man right in the eye.

"Nope."

"Okay Mike."

Place stuck out his hand. Mike shook it. Brett picked up his suitcase and seabag heading for the brow. He was about five yards away when Mike called out.

"_Hey cowboy. _Don't drop the soap!"

**A/N: **That's all folks. As I said earlier, the story of Gibbs foray into Mexico is a story for another time. I hope you enjoyed my take on what happened on February 28th 1991. If so leave a review, if not, well leave one anyway!


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